


Stay

by 27noir



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-26
Updated: 2013-08-26
Packaged: 2017-12-24 18:21:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/943145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/27noir/pseuds/27noir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik was beginning to believe that it was a mistake to have come back here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay

He had known, of course, not long after he left with Raven and the others, that the misguided bullet had stolen from Charles the use of his legs. It had been a blow then. But to actually see Charles bound a wheelchair was another matter. 

It had been months, many months (nearly years), since they had seen each other last. Not since Erik had left Charles lying on the beach to be comforted by another. (His mission then had been so raw there was little room for anything else. Not even Charles). Charles had not changed much, besides the obvious. Same contented smile, warm, accepting, willing and eager to help. But there was a hint of loss and a new hardness behind his eyes, Erik noticed, which could not be completely answered by the paralyzation. Erik would not flatter himself to believe that perhaps his absence had caused this. Mystique perhaps, or even Moira. (Yes, he had heard about that too. Emma had her uses.) But not himself.

They were in Charles study, like times long past. Charles must have expected him; the chess board was laid out and Erik had found no confrontation at his arrival on the grounds. In fact, he had seen no one and nothing but inquisitive eyes peering from behind the cracks of doors. But so much had changed between them, no matter how familiar the situation might have been. Charles, crippled, at Erik's own doing, and Eric had walked away from it all. Charles had offered him much. 

Erik could tell Charles was uncomfortable with the helmet. He would not say so, but Erik knew. Erik kept it on. It felt like his only safe guard here, as much as from himself as from Charles. In the time he had been gone, he had built up his walls again, letting no one in, not even Mystique. But they were beginning to crumble. Just seeing Charles, being in the same room with him, and that damn chair, Erik could tell that even the helmet wouldn't be enough to protect himself now.

“Good evening, Erik.” Charles looked up at him, and not for the first time, Erik wished he could see into Charles’ mind. Charles’ eyes shone, reflecting even in the low light of the room. “Though, I suppose you don’t go by that name too much anymore.” His mouth curved into the smallest of smiles, but Erik thought perhaps there was bitterness behind it. 

“Charles,” was all he said.

And then they just stood— no, Charles would not stand again—Charles sat in that damned chair, and Erik stood across from him and they just watched each other. What was there to say. Was Erik supposed to make small talk?  _Hello, Charles, how are you? Besides the crippled bit, of course. Good? Well that’s lovely. Still teaching then?_ It seemed more than pointless. That’s not why he was here.

“Erik, why are you here?” Charles filled the silence, speaking as if he had found a way around the helmet and into Erik’s head once more. His voice held a mix of curiosity and concern.

Erik looked down at him once more. He had felt so full of purpose in his intent to come here tonight, but now, it all seemed so small to him. Why was he here?

His mouth moved of it’s own accord, his body lying for his brain. “I’m here to talk to you Charles, to offer you another chance to join me.”

Charles regarded him, but did not say anything. Erik suddenly felt like they were playing chess again. Charles used to give him that same look when he was about to out move Erik. The look unsettled him, but almost not unkindly.  _Like he wanted Charles to win._

Erik was beginning to believe that it was a mistake to have come back here.

_No._ No, he would not give in that easily.

“Do you really think they'll accept you, Charles, once they know what you can do? Once they hear of mutant army you are raising? Do you really think they won’t see you as anything but a threat?

Charles scoffed. "I'm not raising an army, Erik. You know that. I want to help these children, teach them to control their powers. Teach them to how to protect themselves, and others, not to lash out at humanity. That has never been my goal."

"They won't see it that way, Charles. If history has taught us anything it is that humans do not accept those who are different." Neither mentioned it, but the silence told that they were both thinking of the last great war. "You say there is no war between humans and mutants, Charles, and there may not be one yet, but it is immanent."

Charles frowned. "This is an old argument. One we have had many times before, and never agree upon. Surely this is not the reason you came here tonight, after all this time. Why are you here, Erik?"

Erik sighed and looked away.  _Why indeed_. "I'm trying to make you understand, Charles. They will hunt you down. Why not strike first. Why not guarantee your survival."

"Ah, self preservation," Charles laughed. "It was about time in the discussion for Darwin to come into play."

"They hate me for everything,  _everything_ , that I am, Charles. You know what they did to me because I was a Jew. You've seen what they've done, what they are doing now, to mutants. Even how I-- " Erik stopped short, just before the words came out of his mouth.

He had not realized that he had moved. His body had betrayed him. He didn't realize how close he was until his hands were on the sides of Charles' face and they were staring straight into each other's eyes, inches apart. Charles did not retract himself, nor looked alarmed, albeit a bit confused. Erik could feel Charles exhale and the breath was warm and strange and  _right_  and at that moment Erik knew he had to leave.  _Now._

He pulled himself away, stepping back toward the door, yet his eyes remained locked on Charles' own. He could see the confusion on Charles' face, the questions, the need for answers. He also knew Charles wanted nothing more than to see inside his mind, to connect, but Erik couldn't do it. He had lost so much of Charles, he could not lose any more.

He turned and managed to take a step toward the door before Charles spoke.

"Erik." There was an unusual uncertainty in Charles voice. "Erik, I know they won't all accept me. They'll call my power an invasion of privacy. They won't accept the children and their abilities. They won't accept how I feel about you either. Not right now. Not _yet_. But they will. One day they will."

There was a tightness in Erik's chest that he was trying to ignore. He was also trying to ignore that one sentence, the  ~~least important~~  ( _most important_ ) sentence, but on both accounts he was failing miserably. He could feel hope, that insufferable torch, flicking up again inside him and he wanted to crush it. He wanted to smother it until it burnt out and he could throw water on its ashes. He couldn't hope. Hope was dangerous. Hope made him do stupid things like come here in the first place, and this was turning into an obvious disaster.

So instead he laughed ill-humoredly, and said over his shoulder, "So, you can see the future now too?"

"No... no. I just believe this to be true. Just as you believe that all of humanity is doomed to continue the cycle of violence. But the cycle has to end sometime."

"Actually, Charles, it does not. I believe that's why they call it a cycle." He sighed heavily. “I can see it was a mistake to think you might have changed your mind. I’ll leave you now.” Erik started for the door.

"Erik!" He heard Charles attempted to maneuver his chair forward, the small  _clunk_  as it hit the side of the table and Charles swear. Erik stopped, his back still to the younger man, but he knew Charles was cursing the chair, and his legs, and, even though Charles might not have thought it, Erik himself.

"Please," said Charles. His voice was filled with self-deprecating anger and subtle desperation. Erik had never heard Charles desperate for anything. "Please, my friend, stay. Just for a little while."

Erik turned back around. "Are we still friends? We're not on the same side of this war. We never were." They regarded each other for a moment. Then Charles held out a hand. "Erik, you will always be my friend. We've seen too much together to be enemies."

The clock on the mantel was the only sound for a moment, and one might have thought that Charles had frozen the room. They were both immobile, Charles' hand still outstretched, Erik standing stiff and straight, frowning at the other man from under the helmet.

They both moved at the same time. Charles finally dropping his hand and almost sighing, quite possibly in resignation. But then he saw Erik's hands rest on either side of his helmet. And slowly, slowly, Erik slid the molded metal from his head and laid it to rest on the end table.

Charles' hands were slim and unblemished, with the exception of the ink stain and the callous on the middle finger on his writing hand. A scholar's hands, Erik thought, not a soldier's. They seemed small in his own, but they were warm and  reassuring to the touch. He knelt beside Charles' chair, staring into those startling blue eyes.

'Erik' Charles breathed, out loud or in his mind, Erik couldn't tell. Charles caressed the side of his face tentatively. "Do you really want this?"

Erik answered him with a quiet kiss, but thought as fiercely as he could hoping,  _knowing_ , that Charles would be listening:  _Yes_.

As Charles wove his hands around Erik's neck and though his hair, Erik could only hear one thought.

_Stay._

And he did.


End file.
